


Serving it Up

by Ralith



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Cyberverse
Genre: Alcohol, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23335960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralith/pseuds/Ralith
Summary: The only influence they were under was each other.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Serving it Up

Maccadams was maxed to capacity. Bots and Cons were gyrating, grinding to the imported Earth music. They danced with all the expected gracefulness of a room full of drunks. Grimlock’s parties didn’t always get out of hand, but with high grade flowing freely and Percy turning out order after order, this party was on its way to being one of the most memorable. Or most forgettable. No doubt some had already forgotten where they were.

The whole scene was a feast for hungry eyes, but Dead End had his eyes on one figure only.

Which was why he collided with numerous revelers before arriving at Clobber’s booth. He set the tray down.

“You’re watching him again,” she smirked knowingly, bringing the mug to her lips.

“Yes,” Soundwave reached for his own mug. He was slurring his words, already several drinks to the wind. “Why are you serving us when you should be serving Perceptor with some moves.”

Clobber and Dead End gagged at that. Not so much from the insinuation, but that it had come from the communications officer of all people.

“First off, I never want to hear you speak like… _that_ again. Second, he needed assistance. It’s busy and he was starting to fall behind. He asked, I said why not.”

“He asked you?!” Clobber exclaimed excitedly. “And you said yes?”

“Y-yeah. I’m not much of a party person.”

“No, you’re more of a people watcher.”

Dead End growled. He could _hear_ Soundwave’s fucking grin.

“Soundwave, know that I can cut you off at any time,” Dead End warned, tucking the tray under an arm and worming his way back through the crowd. That’s when he heard the crash.

Perceptor was holding a large, broken bottle by its neck, its contents dripping from the counter to the floor. Some was splattered on the scientist’s chest and hand.

With a heavy sigh, Percy bent down to scoop up the broken fragments when a hand overlaid his own.

“Careful. You’ll cut yourself.”

“Dead End.”

“Go get yourself cleaned up. I’ll take care of this.”

Perceptor stared at him for a few beats too long. Dead End wanted to squirm under that intense gaze. Why was it worse to be under the scrutiny of a scope lens? It was like Percy was staring right through him. Wait. Could he?

Standing silently, Perceptor made his way to the back room. Dead End grabbed a dustpan and swept up the glass littering the floor.

“What a mess.” He grimaced when a few drops of high grade rolled off the counter and onto his head.

He walked into the back room to find Perceptor was still hunting for the rags. Frag, he had forgotten he moved them to make room for more bottles.

“Perceptor, here.”

“Thank y-ah!”

Perceptor paused, frozen in place, his arm extended towards Dead End to take the rag. The Decepticon’s hands were on him.

Dead End traced the rivulets on energon down the scientists chest, dabbing the cloth into transformation seams and following them down, down… and then he was wiping off his fingers, lingering on the joints and rubbing little circles in his palm. Then he was pulling away too soon.

“There,” Dead End looked over his work, tracing Percy’s chest with his eyes.

“Thank…thank you,” Perceptor’s voice was soft. “However, I think you missed a spot.”

“Did I? I don’t see-!” His hand was suddenly seized and his palm pressed over Perceptor’s spark. The scientist’s lips were brushing his own.

“Have I said thank you, yet? For your help today. For everything?”

“Y-yes. You have. Multiple times.”

“Then once more should suffice.” Perceptor’s lips were on his, strong, sure, inquisitive. Just like the Autobot himself. His hand still anchored on the windowed chest, Dead End felt himself slowly pushed back until his knees connected with a crate and he stumbled, head hitting the wall, back arching up and he was pressing into Perceptor’s…oh.

“Percy, where have you been? Oho, it’s not just the revelers who have been thirsty,” Grimlock looked between Dead End and Perceptor and a knowing smile broke out on his face. The kiss broke when Dead End finally lost his footing and flopped onto the crate.

“This isn’t what it looks like!”

“This is precisely what it looks like.”

“Indeed it is, Perceptor. I’m glad you two are enjoying more than just the party.”

Grimlock turned on his heels and left, that dumb grin still plastered on his face.

“It’s alright everyone, the energon will be flowing again soon enough!”

Dead End groaned and sank into the crate, wishing he could melt right into it. It was a few moments until he realized his hand was still pressed against the Autobot, that Perceptor hadn’t made any effort to remove it. Regrettably he pulled away, fingers lingering on the fringes of the Autobot badge. He swore he heard Perceptor release a disappointed sigh.

“No offense, but no one can know about this. Well, except for him,” Dead End thumbed towards the door.

“Unfortunately, with Grim, I can assure you that’s a moot point.”


End file.
